


Falling Under

by reg_slivko



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Eventual Smut, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Kidnapping, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22956037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reg_slivko/pseuds/reg_slivko
Summary: Ruling the Underworld is a lonely job.  The only joy Geralt finds these days is by watching a beautiful young man pick flowers in the human world.  Being bad with emotions and lacking in self-restraint, he decides that this mortal is going to be his.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 23
Kudos: 142





	Falling Under

Geralt didn’t leave the Underworld very often- not because it felt like home, but because it was the easiest place to be. He felt out of place in sunlight, surrounded by living things. That said, he could appreciate what people liked about the living world: he certainly didn’t dislike the warmth or the energy, he just wasn’t sure the warmth or energy liked him.

It was when he saw him the first time that Geralt finally appreciated for himself the beauty of living things. He was a young man, likely no older than twenty, who frollicked and lept and danced in the fields, blissfully unaware of Geralt’s observance. He picked flowers each day, weaving them into crowns and wreaths and leis, taking one of nature’s most perfect creations and somehow bringing even more beauty to them.

_ I’m no authority on what is alive _ , Geralt had thought when he saw him,  _ but this boy is the most alive thing I’ve ever seen. _

And it must have been Geralt’s selfishness, his loneliness, his complete lack of understanding of what he was supposed to do with all the feelings that he suddenly felt, that made him decide to take the man for himself. 

Hoping to make a grand, romantic entrance, he prepared a chariot for his return the next day. He fretted over it quite thoroughly, in fact, afraid that the decrepit condition of everything would scare off his new (and perhaps only) object of desire.

He rehearsed his approach a few times, but it wasn’t very enlightening.  _ Say, would you like to visit the Underworld with me? No, that’s too wimpy. Mortal, I command you to- now that’s just ridiculous.  _

How was his brother always seducing mortals? He would go ask, but that would require talking to him, which sounded horrible. With the affections of this human on the line, though, Geralt almost thought it would be worth it. The key word there being ‘almost.’

Fed up with indecision and losing patience with the whole concept of seduction, Geralt nixed the chariot idea and created a more sinister plan. 

It took him all night to craft the flower- not that days and nights were exceptionally noticeable in the Underworld where there was no sun or moon or stars. Even with all his work, what he ended up with still felt like a poor excuse for what grew so easily on Earth. The petals were grey with black and purple veins running through them: he’d managed not to make it look too withered, but it wasn’t exactly lucious or brimming with life, either. He left it in the field where the man wandered, and waited. He realized time moves slowly when you’re simply counting the seconds at dawn, so he decided to wait in the Underworld instead, so he could be there when he- hopefully- plucked the flower and fell through to his throne room. 

What felt like hours later, but was in fact only half an hour, he heard the noise of Earth shifting above him. The man had plucked the flower, and any second now he would finish falling and land right there at his feet. Geralt felt his stomach turn into a knot… all these months of watching him from afar, and for the first time, he would be seen.

The first thing Geralt noticed was how much darker his hair looked with no sun shining on it. The second thing Geralt noticed was that he probably should've made sure that the fall couldn't hurt him, but thankfully it didn't seem to, as he looked around and quickly stood up and brushed himself off; the flower was still in his hand.

“Where am I?” the young man asked, and his voice was so sweet that Geralt was sure he’d never heard anything so fair and precious before.

Before Geralt could answer, he was interrupted.

“White hair, yellow eyes,” the young man listed, “I know who you are.”

“You’re observant,” Geralt replied. 

“Doesn’t take a genius to put it together,” he quipped. 

“Well, spit it out then,” Geralt demanded. 

“You’re Geralt, god of the Underworld,” he finally said.

“Then that just leaves us with who you are,” Geralt prompted.

“No one special,” he replied sheepishly.

“I highly doubt that.”   
He smiled, and Geralt wanted nothing but to see that smile as much as he possibly could; it hit him like a punch to the gut, but soothed him like a warm cup of mead, and did so all at once.

“Alright then,” he responded, “my name is Julian. Julian Alfred Pankratz. But everyone calls me Jaskier- it means Buttercup.”

Of course he’d be nicknamed after a flower. It was perfect.

“Your face is turning pink,” Geralt observed.

“Is it? Oh.”

“Is that… normal?”

Jaskier gave Geralt a confused look. “Yes- well, sort of. It’s called ‘blushing’.”

“What causes it?”

“Blood rushing to the face,” 

“That’s where the name comes from, then: blood rushing, blushing,” Geralt noticed.

“I never realized that, to be honest,” 

“Why is blood rushing to your face, then?”

“It’s a nervousness reaction,” Jaskier explained.

“Are you scared of me?” Geralt asked softly.   
He seemed to think about that before answering. “No, I don’t think so. But I have to wonder why I’m here.”

“You plucked my flower.”

“I sort of assumed that it wasn’t a coincidence that I turned up here after plucking a black flower,” he frowned, glancing down at the strange plant in his hand, “I meant that I was wondering why there’s a flower that leads people to the Underworld. I’m not dead, am I?”

“No.”

“So, how do I leave?”

Geralt hadn’t prepared very well for this part.

“You don’t.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Geralt winced, knowing he’d upset him. But maybe if he was tender about it, it would blow over quickly.

“You’re not going to leave. You’re going to live here with me,” Geralt explained.

“That’s… you can’t keep me here,” Jaskier rushed, looking around frantically

“I can,” Geralt corrected.

“You shouldn’t. This is cruelty,” Jaskier announced.

Geralt never enjoyed being seen as cruel, but he pretended to be alright with it. “You’ll learn to appreciate me, and this place.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Jaskier panted, looking a little unwell. Geralt stood from his chair, wanting to help him, but Jaskier stepped back.

“Are you alright?”

“Stay away from me,” Jaskier requested, but his voice began to waver.

“Let me help you,” Geralt offered, reaching out for him. Jaskier shook his head, trying to move away, but he started to stumble. Geralt caught him just as he fell, and watched his face as his eyes fluttered shut and his body went limp.

Now here he was, holding everything he’d ever wanted, and feeling a horrible storm of guilt brew in his chest. He didn’t want to hurt Jaskier, but he didn’t know any other way to have him. Maybe he would be more amenable once he’d gotten some rest.

Geralt scooped him up into his arms and carried him to the bedroom. Of course it made him feel some horribly wonderful way to hold him, to feel Jaskier’s warmth so close. How were mortals not sweating all the time, being so warm? Geralt laid him on the bed gently, and only allowed himself a moment of staring down at his peaceful, sleeping form before he left.

It was an hour later that Jaskier found him, walking into the room looking a little dishevelled from sleep. Geralt was waiting in the dining hall, seated at a grand table alone, eating from a small plate of fruit.

“You’re awake,” Geralt said, standing up.

“You’re observant,” Jaskier mumbled sleepily.

“I hope you didn’t get lost. I intended to show you around, before you fainted. Are you feeling better?”

“I think I’ll be alright if I eat something,” Jaskier theorized, reaching for a pomegranate. Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s wrist, not roughly, but hard enough to stop him.

“Don’t eat or drink anything here,” Geralt ordered.

“Why, is it gross?”

“Once you eat something grown in the Underworld, you are tied to this place.”

“I thought I was already stuck here,” Jaskier frowned, taking a seat at the table. Geralt returned to his own seat as well.

“I’ve put more consideration into that. It seems right that you should visit the human world occasionally, since it’s your true home.”

Jaskier was less impressed by that than Geralt expected.

“It’s really just about where you belong. You’re fully living: you’re a visitor here,” Geralt continued.

“I can tell. I feel out of place,” Jaskier shivered. 

“Can I make it more comfortable for you?”

“Can you make it have sunlight?”

“No.”

“Then, no, I don’t think so,” Jaskier frowned.

“This is how it feels for me in your world. Maybe you’ll adjust better, over time,”

“How long until I can visit home again?”

Geralt sighed. He hadn’t expected for Jaskier to ask about that so quickly- it was as if he was already desperate to leave, when all he’d done was show up and faint.

“Let me show you the Underworld. Maybe you’ll find something you like,” Geralt announced, standing up again. Jaskier hesitated but stood as well.

“Is this where you live?” Jaskier asked as they started to walk down the halls.

“It’s where I reside, yes,” Geralt subtly corrected.

“Alone?” 

“You live here,” Geralt noted.

“Right,” Jaskier responded quietly. 

“This is the balcony,” Geralt continued as he opened the doors. Jaskier looked shocked, possibly in a good way, as he stepped out and leaned up against the railing. As far as he could see was water, and though the water was dark, there were bright blue specks floating in it, glowing and twinkling and shifting. Looking up, there was no sky, only slate and limestone cave walls.

“That’s the River Styx, isn’t it?”   
“Yes,” Geralt nodded.

Jaskier shivered, and Geralt felt a sudden and overwhelming desire to pull him closer and wrap him in an embrace, but he decided that would upset Jaskier, so he didn’t.

“It’s odd to be on this side of it,” Jaskier observed quietly.

“I’d imagine so. You won’t need the boatman to take you to the other souls, if you’d ever like to venture there- though I can’t imagine why. Just tell me, and I’ll take you,” Geralt offered.

“I could visit the dead?”

“If you desired to, yes.”

“Perhaps I will sometime, just because I can,” Jaskier pondered. Geralt smiled a little to himself, amused by how much mortals seemed preoccupied with freedom, and pushing that freedom to its limits at every apparent opportunity.

“How am I supposed to live here if I can’t eat anything? Won’t I starve?” 

“You won’t feel any hunger or thirst here, and you won’t starve,” Geralt answered.

“Why not?”

“Because I decided it,” Geralt shrugged. It could be hard to explain being a god sometimes. This was  _ his  _ world, and he controlled everything in it… well, except Jaskier. But he could control some things surrounding Jaskier, like his mortal urges and needs. In fact, Jaskier was incapable of dying here in any way, not that Geralt was concerned about any threats to his safety.

“I feel sleepy. Can you make me not need to sleep?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“How should I know? I just can’t. Why can you walk but not fly?” Geralt countered.

“Wait, can you fly?” Jaskier asked, perking up a bit.

“That wasn’t my point,” Geralt frowned.

“Yes, but can you?”

“Not really. I can travel between places without needing to walk or ride a horse. But I don’t fly there. I just… am there,” Geralt explained. He’d never considered how to verbalise these things.

“You must’ve travelled the world, seen such incredible things,” Jaskier assumed, looking happier than he probably had all day.

“Not particularly,” Geralt admitted. Jaskier’s happiness died, of course. “The only incredible thing I ever saw was you.”

Jaskier’s face changed, and though Geralt wasn’t sure what it meant, he recognized the blushing from before. 

“Would you like to retire for the evening?” Geralt offered.   
“Strange to say that, when there’s no evening,” Jaskier sighed.

“It’s always evening,” Geralt corrected.

“If there’s no day, there’s no evening. Otherwise, it’s just dark,” Jaskier frowned. Geralt tilted his head a little; Jaskier had such a strange way of thinking about things.

Leading him to the bedroom, Geralt opened the door for him and motioned to the bed.

“You probably remember waking up here,” Geralt realized. “This is your bedroom.”

“Where do you sleep?” Jaskier asked.

“Here,” Geralt answered as if it were obvious.

“But you said this is my bedroom,” Jaskier remembered, looking confused.

“This is my bedroom,” Geralt replied.

“Then where do I sleep?” Jaskier asked.

“Here. This is  _ our  _ bedroom,” Geralt finally explained.

“You expect me to sleep here  _ with  _ you?” Jaskier asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jaskier scoffed. 

“I have bedclothes for you,” Geralt soothed, as if that would actually soothe him.

“This is all so peculiar,” Jaskier whispered seemingly to himself, covering his face with his hands. 

“It doesn’t seem that difficult. I just want you to lay next to me,” Geralt shrugged.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Geralt wasn’t expecting that question, and didn’t know how to answer.

“Is it just so that you wouldn’t be alone here anymore?” Jaskier pressed.

Geralt looked away. “I have bedclothes for you,” he repeated. 

“Right,” Jaskier nodded, “they’re in the closet?”

“Yes, I’ll bring them,” Geralt rushed, opening the closet doors and bringing out his own bedclothes as well as what he’d prepared for Jaskier.

“Is that silk?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never even touched silk before,” Jaskier admitted.

“Here,” Geralt handed it to him, expecting him to pick it up, but instead Jaskier just reached out and ran his fingers along the fabric. His fingers were so nimble and thin, and his touch looked so delicate. Geralt longed for Jaskier to run his fingers along Geralt’s skin with as much reverence as he touched that silk... 

“It’s so smooth!” Jaskier exclaimed.

“It’ll feel better to wear,” Geralt encouraged. 

"Where should I change?" Jaskier asked nervously. 

"Behind that screen." Geralt gestured to it.

Jaskier took his clothes and used the screen for privacy, and though Geralt couldn't see him, even just the sounds of his skin against fabric as he undressed were overwhelming.

Geralt was still buttoning up his shirt when Jaskier stepped back out from behind the screen. He noticed those beautiful blue eyes lingering for a moment on his chest, and Geralt tried not to get too giddy at the idea of Jaskier finding him attractive. 

Without saying anything, Geralt walked to his side of the bed and slid under the blanket. Jaskier seemed a little hesitant but followed suit. Geralt wished the bed were smaller so that they would have to touch to fit, but sadly it was a luxurious mattress upon which Jaskier had found the furthest possible where from Geralt to lay on.

"Sleep well," Geralt requested.

"No promises," Jaskier grumbled.

Eventually, Jaskier did fall asleep, and Geralt lit a small candle so he could see his face. He looked so peaceful, and it made Geralt’s heart ache to know that he couldn’t be so comfortable, so vulnerable when he was awake. He could only dream that one day this man would trust him enough to be so relaxed while conscious.

Of course, the truth was that Geralt  _ could  _ stop Jaskier from needing to sleep. But if he did that, he wouldn’t get to watch him do it, which would be so unfortunate.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're thinking that people in this story are weirdly comfortable with kidnapping people, and/or that people in this story are weirdly comfortable with being kidnapped, just know that this was normal fare in Greek mythology lol. Thanks for reading, more to come soon!


End file.
